The following conversation took place in the register lane at an East Baltimore market that most suburban whites would fear to enter. I recently walked in the front door of Fort Hoodrat with Demarcus. As we walked between two SUV’s blasting different versions of cop killer rap music he said, “This neighborhood is really going downhill.”
I responded, “No, it’s already bottomed out, and is going nowhere.”
Yesterday, a 40-50 year old lady in the checkout lane held a different opinion of this establishment.
“Oh my word, this is such a nice market. The prices are good, the food is fresh, the employees are nice [to which two scowling cashiers raised their off furrowed brows in astonishment]—it makes a body feel welcome.”
“I took the cab all the way over here from the West Side. We’ve got the blight over there. During the riot week the hacks and the cabs couldn’t get you here, and they definitely weren’t taking you home to West Baltimore!”
“West Baltimore has always been bad. Now it’s hoodlum central. The police will not even come when called to my block. The hoodlums have shot out all the street lights…”
My order done, I pondered as I walked out the door, into this mixed race neighborhood plagued with violent crime: that to a white suburbanite it seems like a nightmare, but to a black urbanite it seems like a dream.
